Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
by Wild-Eyed Rose
Summary: It's a parody, unfinished, birthed before the bulk of the AC media came out. Maybe I'll revise it someday and finish it off.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children   
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII  
  
**Author**: Rose  
  
**Notes**: This idea emerged to take FFX-D and bite it in the arse. It's Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children…except…my take on it. Horror, shock. It's entertaining to write, far more than it should be, and offers a refreshing change from, well, other things. And it is, of course, a work in progress: all comments are welcome. Well, most comments are welcome. INTERESTING comments are welcome.

But, you didn't click on this to read my talk, now did you?

---

**Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children**

_"All I want...is to be forgiven."_

_"I'm dead! Deal with it!"_

**Midgar**

          Dark storm clouds rolled overhead in a monochrome grey curtain, as dark as despair and the same color as the feeling, if it had a shade, that washed over his soul. Darkness. Gloom. Cloud looked up into the rain that washed down, the lightning that danced across the heavens, and he started laughing. It was a bitter, bitter laugh, a very bitter laugh that was filled with…angst.

          "I am such a fool," he declared and looked up into the looming angsty storm and repeated it. "I am such a fool!" Cloud shouted, swinging his sword in broad angsty strokes. "I just want to be forgiven!"

          The storm raged overhead as Cloud laughed with angst in his voice and tears in his eyes.

**Wutai**

          "There's a sequel, you know," Reeve said as he skillfully dealt out the cards across the table to Yuffie. Red XIII lay nearby, in front of the TV, flipping through the channels in search of a nature special. The three of them were hiding in Yuffie's house, on the coast of Wutai. It had been built after Holy and the end of their last adventure, an agreed-upon necessity with more than enough rooms to house the entire cast if it were to prove necessary. The proceeds from her cut of the materia were more than sufficient to wire her house with cable, even across the ocean, and with Reeve's influence it was easy enough to arrange supply drops when necessary. It was a perfect hideout.

          "Mmm," Red murmured.

          "Cloud's fighting against Jenova…again," Reeve added, as he took up his hand and eyed his cards carefully. "Seems that Sephiroth might be back."

          "Oh gawd, you'd think he'd just give up."

          "Sephiroth?"

          "No, Cloud!" she answered, paused. "His hero thing. You'd think he'd have enough of it the first time, ya know?"

          "He might need our help." 

          There was a pause, as the three looked up and at each other at the statement. Silence filled the room, only broken by the babbling of the TV. Then, through communication long since honed by their many years of battle experience, them being comrades through thick and thin and multiple stuffed animals, a decision was made, without a word even spoken.

          "Do you have any fives?" Reeve asked with a grin, and was rewarded with Yuffie's annoyingly gloating smile.

          "Go fish!"

          Red settled down with a content sigh to the TV. He had found a special on the North Midgarian Zolom, one that he hadn't seen before. Reeve and Yuffie continued to play Go Fish (other games, such as poker, had long since been discarded due to her…tendency to stretch the rules) and a strange sort of calm settled in the small house in Wutai.

         Outside, the sun was shining brightly, with barely a cloud in the sky. It looked to be another perfect day.

**Northern Crater**

          From the shadows he emerged, and the shadows released him with a sigh, a few strands clinging to him like a shroud.

          Or a cloak.

          His hair was burnished silver, cut from the moon if the moon ever were to finally dominate the sun. His physique was thin, as if he was a thin wrath of the man that he surely once was. His name? Forgotten, almost, except then the shadows whispered it to him.

          "Sephiroth," it said, and he remembered. 

          "Yes. I am. Mother." He groaned, the cobweb tendrils of the Lifestream releasing him from his slumber. It was as patchwork as his memory, with threads and places missing, a tapestry with holes: like a cocoon, however, it cloaked him, protecting him from the changes that had shaken the Planet and remade it in the image of another. Not his image, however. "I hear you."

          "Good," her voice whispered, disembodied in aspect, as ethereal as the Lifestream.

          From the shadows two other figures emerged, two more figures in his own likeness, as if imperfect copies had been made of his glorious figure, dressed in shadows, cocooned in Mako. His mind burned to give them names, although for the life of him he couldn't think of any.

          "Take your two brothers and finish what you have started," crooned Jenova's voice, smooth into his ear. "Recover my head, and destroy the planet."

          "Yes, Mo-" Pause. "Wait, what?" Sephiroth blinked. Brothers? Since when the Hell did he have brothers?

          There was a moment of silence. The two snickered softly, and Sephiroth vowed to skewer the two irritants at the earliest possible opportunity.

          "Are you so surprised to discover others like yourself?" Jenova hissed in irritation, presumably over the dramatic moment being ruined by her son. "They are your kin, your brothers, of your kind. They are my children, as you are my son."

          "I am Hesed," said one, bowing with irritating cocky charm.

          "I am Din," said the other, with short cropped hair and a stocky figure, yet it was obvious just from his nod that he could move with smooth cat-like grace when it suited him. Hell, it was obvious just from the silver hair they both had: cat-like grace was a Jenova thing. 

          Sephiroth silently seethed, smoothing over his features until, he hoped, he only showed compliance. "Yes, Mother. But, when did I have…brothers? Who is the fat—"

          "That is no concern of yours!" Jenova said hastily, her voice emerging in a roar. "Tear the world apart, reduce it to the ashes from which it was born!"

          "Yes, Mother," he said, echoed by the other two…Dan and Hesed? Something like that. He would have to deal with that when the time came, though. First things, first. "Mother?"

          "Yes?"

          "How can I destroy the world without a weapon? Where's my Masamune?" The two other silver-haired...Jenova siblings...snickered again. It was then that he noticed Hesed's gun, and Din's knuckles, as silver as their hair, and he had a sinking dawning suspicion of where his sword went.

          "Some changes were necessary, big brother Sephiroth," Din answered, smiling, lifting up his hand, sheathed in a glove of previously-Masamune metal. "You might feel a bit different."

          And different he did. Not only was his lack of sword jarring, but more memories were returning, and they all involved him with a long black cloak and hair. And now he thought about it, he did feel a bit...lighter, in head as well as body.

          And looking into an outstretched sword, reminiscent of his own but hollow, and seeing his reflection, he screamed at his lack of hair. His hair was short shoulder-length hair which was trendy, perhaps, but not his flowing fountain that he was used to. He looked different, younger, more angular, and he felt different: he didn't have Jenova riding in his brain like he was used to, her attention now diverted to her new sons.

          And he screamed. "How could you, Mother?!"

          "Stop angsting, Sephy...." Hesed said cheerfully, a broad smug grin plastered across his face.

          "SEPHY?"

          "....and get used to it. By the Planet, you'd think you never had a damned haircut."

          "Now come, my sons," Jenova whispered, ignoring her oldest son's angst, "And attend to me, for you must recover my relic, my head, and use it to purge this planet of its sins."

          And somehow, Sephiroth had the feeling that he had done this already. Although, how could that be? Déjà vu was a bitch, it must've just been the shock of reawakening years younger than he remembered himself. With a lack of hair and his poor sword bastardized like it had been, who could blame him?

**Nibelheim**

          A chilled wind blew, and he turned his gaze towards the west. Always towards the west: it seemed that he was walking towards a perpetual bloody sunset and darkness. But, without shadow, how could light know itself, define itself?

          "It comes," he said, and did not know if the knowledge stemmed from the beast within or the script he had read last week. However, he knew...something wicked this way comes. 

          And the battle is joined again.


	2. Part I, Chapter I

**Part I, Chapter I**

      The steady silence of the far Midgar outskirts was only broken by the sound of what little wildlife there was: the squeaking of rats, the cawing of the surviving crows, and the soft shuffling of the sole chocobo as it chewed contently upon the various greens in its feeding trough. Coco's father, Boco, had been a racing chocobo, winning the high level races: his daughter Coco simply fed upon grasses and waited. For what, she wasn't sure, though she was only a chocobo and chocobos didn't really think about much. Mostly they just thought about greens and running, with the occasional chocobuckle on the side. 

      Coco and her trough were surrounded by a wide pen, similar in shape and size and color as the chocobo farm that lay on the other side of the continent. However, it was mostly empty, compared to the other pen which had up to eight warking walking talking snapping chocobos playing in the sun. This one only had two: Coco and her brother, Morgoth. Coco was a cheerful sunny yellow in shade: Morgoth was a deep inky black color, as if a moving shadow, although he remained in shadow, brooding, also waiting. Coco's master was Cloud, and he had hair like a chocobo, the same color as her feathers, and she loved him for that. Morgoth's master had long since disappeared like the brooding angst-laden goth that he was, and Morgoth spent most of the time muttering to himself, warking occasionally, though mostly sleeping in the shadows. He also thought about chocobuckles, quite often, in fact, although his idealized target was be far different than his sister's fantasies.

      The chocobo pen and stable was located just a few yards from the house proper, constructed from assorted metallic pieces scavenged from Midgar proper. They were some distance from the actual city, several miles and only when the sun was just barely above the horizon did the looming shadow even begin to touch their village, roughly dubbed New Midgar as it was a new place created from the ruins of the old. Further out, there might have been better land, a gentler climate as nature had barely started to return to the land that Midgar once was, although Cloud insisted: they stray no further. He didn't want to take them any further from Midgar, but conversely, was reluctant to get any closer than they were.

      So. There sat New Midgar, with old Midgar a large blot in the distance. Midgar was a day's hard ride on chocobo, although Cloud wasn't worried about one or more of his charges intentionally escaping into the ruined city-that-was. Coco only took him willingly, and Morgoth was more prone to kill the orphans instead of letting them ride him. And everyone was aware of this. (They all remembered the lesson of Kenneth.) He didn't really have to worry about one or more of his charges escaping into Midgar for daytrips, and so spent most of his time cultivating the village and waiting, as his chocobo Coco did, for something.

      He came from the north, as a lot of things did, such as wind and snow. Barret came from further than just simply 'north,' of course: he had skipped across the continent to Rocket Town to catch a ride from Cid and the Highwind (which he still owned, no one was quite sure why although it spent most of the time marooned where the rocket once was) and arc across, to the north of where Midgar once was, landing at Kalm, retrieving a mount, and racing downward to where New Midgar was with his chocobo, Train. In the end, it would have, perhaps, been easier for Barret to have used the PHS to call Cid over to Coral, pick him up there, and land within walking distance of New Midgar. But, they all knew how Cloud went...strange...well, stranger...after Holy washed across the land. And they all knew how Cloud was prone to freaking out at the sight of things that triggered memories, the Highwind especially. So, thus, the roundabout route, the long and winding route, a way of peacefully engaging Cloud in conversation without having to talk him through his homicidal rage. Or so the story went. Really, Barret just wanted an excuse to go out and kill things.

      So he and Train rushed down from the north, in a whirlwind of feathers and cursing and occasional gunfire. And as they neared, first Coco, and then Morgoth started calling out, in warks which, though, different in tone, basically conveyed the same message: "What the hell? _YOU?_"

      It wasn't surprising that their approach was noticed. The furthest out of the orphans, little Tommy Wilkshire who's turn it was to gather roots and farm what there was to be farmed (mostly chocobo greens, which were surprisingly tasty in ketchup) saw them coming. He gazed, mouth open, eyes wide, and burst out in an all-out run towards the village, shouting as he did so. "Uncle Cloud! Uncle Cloud! A stranger's coming!"

      He ran past the semi-ruined houses, and nearly tripped on a metal slab that stuck out, but continued running. "Uncle Cloud!"

      "Shh," said Donna, who stopped Tommy at the entrance to Cloud's house. It was an actual house, well-built, solid as an old oak tree, which was part of the reason New Midgar blossomed here. She stopped him with one hand, firmly planted at his stomach. "Uncle Cloud's angsting."

      Everyone knew better than to interrupt Uncle Cloud when he was in the middle of his angst, even though that was basically every single day, every single minute. But when Uncle Cloud was really angsting, no one interrupted him. Angsty Uncle Cloud had a very sadistic side.

      "But, Donna! A stranger's coming!" He paused, looked behind him, and silently noted that the running speed of a chocobo exceeded that of a human. "Well, came."

      "S'up, kid?" said Barret, who dismounted Train and tossed the reins to one of the many kids surrounding him. They shed, although a few of the brighter realized that unlike Coco or Morgoth, this chocobo wasn't love-struck nor sadistic towards others, and was therefore relatively harmless. A few more theorized that perhaps Train could take them to the mysterious ruins of Midgar in the distance, although carrying Barret several miles south had made Train rather tired and he hurried over towards the other two to eat greens, sleep, and gossip in their chocobo sort of way.

      Barret pointed to the door and raised an eyebrow: little Tommy and Donna both nodded and hastily moved aside as the large man walked past them and, almost as an afterthought, shut the door after him.

      Tommy blinked: Donna shivered. The two pelted towards the other kids to scream that someone disturbed Uncle Cloud, yes, and when Uncle Cloud was feeling angsty. Blood's being spilled tonight!

---

      It was dark inside, though no more dark than Cloud's mood, which was substantial in its gloom: none-the-less, the shadows of his house echoed the mournful angst that he felt deep within the recesses of his black and twisted and shriveled soul. Dark and gloomy, glum and angsty. As deep and dark and as incomplete as Cloud felt right now, which sent a shiver down Barret's spine as he ventured forth. Barret had faced down ageless demons from eons and eons ago and giant robots created from the Planet's fury, but he had never faced the intense self-pity of one of his comrades like he did now. Where the Hell was Tifa when you needed her?

      "Cloud...? Spiky-ass...?" Silence. Barret tentatively rapped on a wall. "I hear you've been living with orphans." He heard a noise from afar, the shuffling of feet, and cautiously headed towards the sound. He, like just about everyone else, clearly remembered the Cloud Strife freakout moments. "Wouldn't you like to see them smiling again?"

      There was a harsh angsty chuckle in response, echoing through the multiple passageways and rooms that Barret would swear were multiplying just to taunt him. "You've sure grown up, Barret."

      "Shut up, foo'!" He dashed through a doorway, entered what appeared to be a kitchen, nearly sneezed from the dust, and heard Cloud's calm response as if it was from the next room over.

      "I'm outside."

      Which it almost was.

      Outside was sharper, clearer, the dirt plains marred by the dark black blot on the horizon, Midgar's looming legacy, and Cloud, sitting on the steps to the house, surrounded by fences and, amazingly enough, some plants. Cloud was, apparently, just polishing his blade, a long and tedious but rather un-angsty activity (he more expected Cloud to be dramatically slashing his blade) that it surprised Barret, somewhat. The fact that it wasn't raining outside was surprising. The fact that there were actual flowers was surprising.

      "Cloud."

      "Barret. It's been a while." He looked up, gave a smile which was more of a grimace, and his eyes narrowed. "New arm?"

      Barret was about to say that, no, it wasn't new, but he remembered: that's right, Cloud spent the last two years sitting with orphans angsting, and so wasn't exactly up-to-date on current events with AVALANCHE. "Yeah. Marlene wanted me to." He sat down next to Cloud, on the steps: Cloud moved over, and Barret wasn't sure if it was to give him room or to get as far away from as possible. "Got tired of me shooting open jars of pickles." He tapped the arm, which was metallic but otherwise had a hand and fingers and basically functioned like a normal arm. "At least, with this one, I got fingers, ya know?"

      "Heh, I can imagine." Predictably, Cloud resumed rubbing his blade with thick strong strokes from his rag. Thick strokes, and rather angst-laden in their intensity and predictability. Barret took back what he thought about polishing one's weapon and angst, it was rather depressing just watching him. "So," he said, angstily, and looked up with Mako eyes gone cold. "What brings you here, Barret?"

      Barret felt the air chill several degrees, as the angst-level in the atmosphere increased sharply.

      "You know why I'm here." He gambled that Cloud wouldn't freak out and attempt to skewer him with his sword. "Our ultimate goal is to restore the world, Cloud."

      Cold eyes looked down at the unsheathed sword, the massive blade that Cloud wielded as easily as a feather, the strokes coming rougher, angstier, one and two. He chuckled and then sighed. "I don't think we can help anyone. Friends...family...no one."

      Barret found that after this short conversation with Cloud, the urge to suicide was growing. Damn, did Spikey Ass grow depressing.

      "I've dreamed of her, Barret."

      Silence.

      "Oh?" Barret said, more as a prompt then out of curiosity: though he was curious, Cloud just seemed to need that question more.

      "I see her, Aeris. And she's standing before me, walking on the water were we dropped her. And she turns to me and she smiles...you know, that smile. And she says...."

      _"My death is a good one." Frown. "Is that what you think?"_

      "Cloud?" he asked frantically, wondering what he'd have to deal with now, ready to spring up and leap away on ninja feet if Cloud was about ready to freak out and whip out his sword.

      "And Barret, oh God, Barret, I just want to b—"

      "Uncle Cloud!" came the cry, tiny feet propelling Donna into the house which was Forbidden with the capital F. "Uncle Cloud! It's Tommy! Little Tommy Wilkshire's taken the big bad ma—oh hullo. The big stranger's chocobo and headed to Midgar!"

      "What?" roared Barret, as he sprang to his feet. "He took Train?"

      "You named your chocobo...Train?" Cloud asked as he sprang to his feet, no less quickly as Barret did.

      "Because there's no getting' offa this train we're on!"

      "That's bad, Barret." Cloud pushed his way past the frantic Donna, Barret following as they made their way through the building and out the other side. They made their way towards the chocobo pen.

      "Heh. So, what do we do, Cloud?"

      "We go after him."

      They passed by the chocobo pen.

      "Uh, you don't expect me to run after Train, do you? I mean, he's not as fast as some of ours, but he's pretty fast himself."

      "No, I don't." Cloud reached a shed near the chocobo pen, and thrust open the doors with one mighty sweep of his arms. Inside were assorted items: a large pile of materia orbs, and a rack of swords against the wall. What drew Barret's eye, though, were the two vehicles: an impossibly spiky street motorcycle, outfitted with what appeared to be swords sticking out at odd angles, and a familiar green truck which brought back flashbacks to an escape from ShinRa Tower.

      "You've gotta be shitting me."

     "Let's go, Barret!" Cloud cried out as he mounted his bike and drove off towards Midgar. Cursing as he did so, Barret squeezed himself into the truck, hastily, and drove off after Cloud. A cloud of dust rose up to mark their passing, the children all rushing out and cheering and stomping as the two grew more and more distant in their passing. 


End file.
